


she hit it out of the park before it'd even begun

by seafoamed



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: 3+1 fic, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, These two dorks, super sweet fluff i'm telling ya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:11:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6381406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seafoamed/pseuds/seafoamed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She glances at the form in her paw that he threw at her, <i>all filled out</i>, like he was actually considering it until she opened up her stupid mouth and ruined everything.</p><p>She swallows thickly. Judy thinks she’s never messed up so badly in her life. She opens her mouth, says something stupid — from her past, something that left a bad taste in her mouth — that’s been bubbling and stewing ever since she got here, until it spilled over in a volatile explosion, messing up maybe the one good thing she’s found since she got here.  </p><p>Judy sighs, head in her paws, heart lodged in her throat.</p><p>She really <i>is</i> just a dumb bunny.</p><p> </p><p>Or, the three times Judy really is a dumb bunny, and one time she’s as sly as her fox. Kinda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	she hit it out of the park before it'd even begun

**Author's Note:**

> first work in this fandom! title(s) from seafret's wildfire
> 
> but i'm so in love with this pair they're so cute ugh give me all the fluff for them
> 
> (i'm trash, i know)

**i. [** you think you know all about it, then it seems you are wrong  **]**

 

She doesn’t know why she says it.

 

Maybe it’s the moment of the thing, or the _timing_ , but once she starts, it comes spilling out like all two hundred and seventy five of her siblings from their burrow — stumbling and tripping over one another, unsteady on their feet, but so, _so_ easy.

 

Lights are flashing and reporters are jostling for attention and she’s never quite had this many people interested in her before — she looks to Nick, panicked, who just smiles softly and nudges her attention back to the newscasters before her.

 

“ _What can you tell us about the fourteen missing mammals?_ ”

 

Judy takes in a deep breath.

 

“ _Why have they gone savage? Should we worry?_ ”

 

She can do this. She’s a police officer. ZPD’s first rabbit. She can _do_ this.

 

“ _Officer Hopps, over here! What do you think this means for the citizens of Zootopia?_ ”

 

She opens her mouth, and everything goes silent.

 

Suddenly, she’s nine years old again and the world is watching her, looking to _her_ for direction. And then, it’s like someone’s switched her on autopilot; she’s watching from outside her body and it’s _surreal_ and somehow she blindly repeats the words she’s been told since birth, the words she’s never quite forgotten as she upped and left Bunnyburrow behind, the words that begin with _predator_ but somehow turns into a jumbled mess of prejudice.

 

She says it like she means it, which isn’t hard to do, because anything Judy Hopps does is by the bucketful. This speech is no different.

 

Once she steps off the podium, heart still beating from the thrill of it all, a smile etched on her face to greet him, her words shrivel in her throat because _Nick_ was there and he heard all of it and _no, of course not, that’s not what I think at all, Nick, you’re different from them,_ she tries to reason— but he’s already tossed the application at her, heading out the door. Heading out of her life.

 

A part of her yells, _good riddance!_ — it’s the conservative bunny rabbit, the one who never quite left the burrow, the _Settler_ , the part of her that reached for the fox repellant when he bared his teeth.

 

But there is another part of her that tells her to run after him — it’s the Tryer in her, the one who came here looking to make a difference, looking to _be_ the difference.

 

She glances at the form in her paw that he threw at her, _all filled out_ , like he was actually considering it until she opened up her stupid mouth and ruined everything.

 

She swallows thickly. Judy thinks she’s never messed up so badly in her life. She opens her mouth, says something stupid — from her past, something that left a bad taste in her mouth — that’s been bubbling and stewing ever since she got here, until it spilled over in a volatile explosion, messing up maybe the one good thing she’s found since she got here.  

 

Judy sighs, head in her paws, heart lodged in her throat.

 

She really _is_ just a dumb bunny.

 

* * *

 

 

 **ii. [**  i needed sunshine in the darkness burning out, well now i know that i'm the fuel and he's the spark  **]**

 

“And after we're done, you can hate me, and that'll be fine, because I was a horrible friend, and I hurt you. And you can walk away knowing you were right all along. I really am just a dumb bunny.”

 

She half-sobs, half-says this, with tears pouring down her face and snot coming out of her nostrils and suddenly they’re okay, they’re _fine_ — Nick is turning around with that dumb grin across his face and her heart leaps in her chest because she actually missed that dumb smile and the dumb fox and the dumb things he did to her.

 

“You bunnies, so emotional,” he teases after her head hits his chest. She’s too exhausted to care, too deliriously happy to give two carrots.

 

She hugs him with all she’s got, because she’s Judy Hopps and she does everything by extremes. And also because she’s got her best friend back.

 

“I really am just a dumb bunny,” she says once more they pull apart after what feels like an eternity in each other’s arms, but it isn’t really _her_ , so she punches him in the shoulder with a disapproving frown.

 

He rubs his shoulders ruefully, and true to her suspicions, he’s got one paw on the damned carrot pen.

 

“Just had to hear that one more time, Carrots,” Nick says with an unapologetic grin. “It’s not every day you hear the great Judy Hopps call herself dumb.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Judy says after a while, “don’t get used to it, fox.”

 

“Carrots, I would _never_ ,” Nick solemnly swears, paw over his heart, but she watches him deliberately press the button once more, teeth blindingly white as they spread into a magnificent smirk.

“I hate you.”

 

“Aw, love you too, bunny.”

 

Judy huffs, trudging forward so he doesn’t see the smile beginning to unfurl across her face. “C’mon, fox, we’ve got a case to solve.”

 

She supposes she can deal with being a dumb bunny if it means her best friend’s back where he belongs: right by her side.

 

* * *

 

 **iii. [** this feelings arranged deep down inside — try describing a love you can't design. more and more, every inch of me is holding on,  
this is it: all the flames are burning strong  **]**

 

She’s been a bit hare-brained lately — oh _god_ , Nick’s rubbing off of her, that damned fox with his stupid puns — what, with the haze of hero worship she’s gotten and the dozen or so press conferences she’s been forced to attend, so excuse her when she’s a bit confused when her co-workers start smirking in her general direction.

 

The first time it happens, it’s with Francine — Judy doesn’t know _how_ she manages to keep such a smug face with that outrageously large trunk of hers in the way, but she pulls it off, the elephant does, and Judy is absolutely _floored_.

 

She feels inexplicably hot under her fur, embarrassed despite not doing anything out of the ordinary.

 

She looks down subconsciously, and she doesn’t see anything wrong with anything: her badge is straight, collar tucked in and popped, Nick’s paws are in her lap, she’s got paperwork piled up so high she can barely see her monitor — and _oh_ , Nick’s paws are in her lap.

 

Usually this wouldn’t be a problem at home, a new place she’d moved in with Nick, mainly because he very nearly had a conniption when she showed him the cramped apartment building she called her home for her first few days in the big city.

 

(She’d agreed to lease a new apartment with him, mainly to save his already deteriorating health and his tendency to worry — the fox was a big sweetheart, despite what he or anyone else might say, and Judy couldn’t fault him for that.)

 

But it’s not home — it’s the _workplace_ , for Pete’s sake, and Judy thinks she might very well lie on the floor and die of embarrassment now for such _inappropriate_ behavior. But she doesn’t, because she’s _Judy Hopps, ZPD’s first bunny rabbit_ , and she’s a mature adult, so she just brushes them off with a brisk swivel of her office chair, ignoring the way Nick complains and the way Francine positively _trumpets_ with laughter, cheeks burning.

 

He doesn’t ask, bless him, because she’s not so sure she would have an answer.

 

**_______________________**

 

Del Gato does it too, in between coffee breaks and when they’re in the briefing room, when he thinks she isn’t looking.

 

Nick is humming, swishing his tail back and forth as he tears open sugar after sugar packet, paws wrapped around one cup as he works on another.

 

“What?” she demands huffily as she sips the coffee Nick’s handed her (just how she likes it, she thinks fondly to herself). The glorified cat just smiles into his mug, tail waving back and forth in apparent amusement.

 

She grumbles angrily under her breath. She doesn’t get it at _all_.

 

Animals are dumb, she thinks, but then Nick smiles at her, all tooth, and her heart jumps into her throat, not ready for such a brilliant sight so early in the morning.

 

 _Well_ , she amends hastily, drinking her coffee, turning to Bogo as he enters the room. _Not all of them_.

 

**_______________________**

It’s Clawhauser who takes pity and breaks it to her, all gleeful smiles and exaggerated hand motions and crumbs of donut spraying her as he speaks.

 

“O, M Goodness!” He clasps his hands together. “You really don’t see it?”

 

She frowns. Grumbles. Taps her foot agitatedly. “If I saw it, would I be asking you, Clawhauser?”

 

“Oh, jeez, some _body’s_ impatient!” He leans down towards her, paws propping up his joyous face, as if about to unleash some kind of secret. Judy leans towards him, ears pricking. “You didn’t hear this from me, but the whole force’s got money on you and Nicholas P. Wilde.”

 

“Money?”

 

“Yeah!” He sprawls back in his chair, head tilted towards the sky. “Bogo’s got you guys pegged for three months from now. Del Gato called it for six, Francine a week from now, but I bet that you guys got together the moment you moved in.”

 

The leopard winks, and Judy feels her world tilt sideways. Just a little.

 

“What?” She feels faint.

 

Clawhauser studies her, expression dropping.

“Oh dear. You really didn’t see it? All the domestic stuff you bring into the office — he knows exactly what you like to drink in the morning, the feet on the lap, the boost you don’t even have to ask for to grab the tea in the cabinets, yadda yadda. We really thought you guys were dating or _something_ —”

 

Judy gulps. She really _is_ a dumb bunny if it takes a conversation with _Clawhauser_ (nothing against the leopard, it’s just — Clawhauser!) to realize that she’s half in love with her fox.

 

“I, uh, gotta do something real quick,” Judy backs away, then pauses.

 

“Who wins if I go up to him right now and do something about it?”

 

Clawhauser straight up _squeals_. Judy winces. It takes a couple seconds (or minutes) for him to compose himself.

 

“No one, except you two.” He manages to say shakily, paws clasped together, looking at the betting pool.

 

Judy beams, grabs a twenty from her pocket and slams it on the counter.

 

“Put me down for today, Clawhauser,” she winks, turning tail and _sprinting_ through the halls, only stopping when Bogo affixes her with a stern glare.

 

She’s just a dumb bunny, and she’s got something rather important to say (and some money to win).

 

* * *

 

 

 **+i. [** and to my word now I'll be true: i can't stop this breaking loose — this love, is like wildfire.  **]**

 

“Nick!” She says when she gets to the office space they share, all flailing limbs and exuberance, then stops short when he turns around lazily, aviators pushed high behind his ears, familiar smirk gracing his face.

 

“What’s up, Carrots?” His green eyes are lidded, but cautious. Calculating.

 

She gulps, because she hadn’t planned it out this far, figured she’d say something and he’d say something and it’d turn into one of their usual snark fests until she’d blurt out, _I’m in love with you_.

 

It’s short. Sweet. Simple. Uncomplicated. Everything they are. Everything they should be.

 

But he’s looking at her with this expectant look on his face and the silence has stretched on so far that it’s bordering on awkward, so she just leans forward and pushes the glasses back down so that they’re balanced haphazardly on the bridge of his muzzle with a cheeky grin.

 

“Nothing, just wanted to say you’re awesome.”

 

“What’s the catch?” Nick jokes, because he’s right, she never does this, never compliments him unless she’s done something bad, like clog up the toilet or accidentally break the washing machine.

 

“And,” Judy plows forward, bouncing on her toes. There’s no going back now. “I love you.”

 

She punctuates the sentence with a kiss. It’s on the mouth, because she’s _awesome_ . _He’s_ awesome. And she’s never been one to do things by halves.

 

And when they break apart, chests heaving, he slips into that familiar grin again; her heart aches at the sight of it.

 

“Tell me something, Carrots,” he breathes, foreheads knocking together, as the department erupts into a mixture of cheers and groans of disappointment.

 

“Anything,” she promises. She swears this is the hardest she’s ever grinned in her lifetime. This fox _does_ things to her. And the scary thing is, she loves it. Loves _him_ , no matter how sappy it sounds.

 

“Is it just me, or do I see some money exchanging hands around here?”

 

She shrugs nonchalantly, despite the way her heart might actually beat out of her chest, at the rate it’s going.

 

“I might’ve bet on us.” Nick’s smile widens even more.

 

“There’s an us?”

 

“Well, yeah,” she stammers, backtracking with her eyes wide, “well, I figured, since I’m kinda in love with you and all that but if you don’t feel the same way it’s totally fine, but after a kiss like _that_ I wouldn’t hesitate calling bullshit —”

 

“Dumb bunny,” Nick interrupts her, gentle and teasing. “Of course there’s an us. It’s always gonna be us.”

 

Del Gato grumbles angrily, and Francine trumpets discouragingly as they slap the money into her outstretched paw. Bogo even forks up a forty begrudgingly, which makes it incredibly difficult for Judy to keep a straight face — she manages one, but only _just_.  Clawhauser is all smiles, even when he gives up a precious fifty, shooting Judy a humungous smile and two thumbs up.

  
Judy winks, running her paw through the sizable stack of money. “It’s called a hustle, sweetheart.”

 

“Sly bunny.” His voice is warm, approving, and it’s all she can do to pull him back in for another breath-stealing kiss. But this is the professional workplace, and Judy has always been a stickler for the rules.

 

“Dumb — _mmph!_ ”

 

It’s a good thing Nick isn’t, though.

  


**Author's Note:**

> thoughts?? i'd love to hear them! 
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> drop off some prompts on my [tumblr](http://miraculoise.tumblr.com/), if you'd like!


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